Past Given to the Future
by Ciba
Summary: Ron has been dreaming of things lately; Whispered voices calling him "Flameboy", Voldemort's red eyes, and blood covering his hands. What is going on! Voldie is alive, Dumbledore is alive… Takes place in sixth year, ignores sixth book and slightly AU... Rated M
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

**Ron has been dreaming of things lately; Whispered voices calling him "Flameboy", Voldemort's red eyes, and blood covering his hands. What is going on?!**

**Voldie is alive, Dumbledore is alive… Takes place in sixth year, ignores sixth book cannon **

**Rated M, Dark!butnotevilRon, Adventure/general**

_The heat broke through the tunnel walls, soaking him in its flame. The shadows pulled back and Voldemort snarled in anger. "You won't get away this time, Boy!" A hand shot out and latched onto his legs. He hissed through his teeth at the whimpering man and slashed his hand across the face. The man screamed and released him. "Flameboy!" He looked up into silver and brown and the fire heightened in response to his emotions. He grabbed the rope that had been sent down and hooked his good leg around it. In a few seconds he was being lifted out of the fray and up to the daylight again._

Ron sat up, gasping as the vivid dream lingered in his mind's eye. He touched his leg gingerly, still feeling the pain from the vision. It had been so real. He turned and swung his feet over the side of his bed. Ron rubbed his face tiredly; it was the fifth time this week that he'd had that dream, but it played like a memory in his subconscious each time. A distant shout caught his attention and the youngest male Weasley shook himself from his stupor.

Pulling a clean pair of jeans on, he saw his trunk packed at the foot of his bed. Oh, that's right. He was returning to Hogwarts today. He grabbed a blue long sleeved shirt and tugged it over his head then paused. When had he gotten this? Ron frowned and felt for a label at the neck, there was none. Ron ran his fingers over the fabric, his mind whirling. Why couldn't he remember?

Suddenly Ginny was at the door, telling him that he needed to get his ass out of bed. She saw his confused look. "What's up?" she asked her brother.

"Gin, where did I get this shirt?"

She scrunched her eyebrows, "Um, I think mum got it when she went school shopping last week, why?"

Ron shrugged to hide his unease, "No reason."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him, then let out a small shriek as a pair of hands grabbed her sides, tickling her mercilessly. "Bill! Stop!" She managed to escape his hold and ran down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Hey." Bill greeted, leaning against the frame of Ron's door.

"Hey." Ron repeated, blinking at the eldest Weasley child. Bill wasn't a child anymore, but there were those times when his face lost its age. Ron frowned mentally at his own thoughts. Too little sleep, he concluded.

"Are you okay?" Bill questioned.

Ron bent down to pick up his trunk. Straightening, he blew a strand of his red hair out of his face in slight annoyance. "Of course." He moved to leave his room, but Bill was there, blocking his way.

"Last night I walked passed your room and heard you crying in your sleep." Bill told him softly. "What's wrong?

Ron had frozen. He quickly relaxed his muscles. "Nothing's wrong, Bill. I'm fine."

Bill snorted, "Yeah, and I'm the son of Malfoy." He looked at his youngest brother sternly. "Tell me."

"I've been having the same dream for a week now. Everything's on fire and I'm fighting Voldemort in some sort of cavern. I look up when someone calls to me and all I see are two different colored eyes looking down on me. The person tosses me a rope and I get hoisted out." Ron let out reluctantly. "I wake up, and I can still feel the pain from my injured leg in the dream."

Bill raised a hand and patted Ron's head. "Nightmares from the Department of Mysteries incident." He murmured. Ron frowned and shook his head, he didn't think so. Bill sighed; that was all he was going to get. "Come on, I'm driving you and Gin to the Station today."

Ron followed Bill down the stairs, and was promptly smushed by one of his mother's hugs. "I'm sorry that we're not going to see you off, Ronald." She said stroking his hair and standing on her tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Eat up!"

"Goodness, Ron, you've sprouted again." A deep baritone voice commented.

Ron nodded to Kingsley. "Hey, Kings." He reached by his mother for a piece of toast, ignoring her tuttings about his manners.

"Say hi to Harry for me, will you?" the black wizard asked.

Ron nodded. "Sure." He took a bite of toast, and nearly gagged; it tasted like charcoal against his tongue. Bill sent him a look as he grabbed the milk jug from the center of the table. Ron ignored it and poured himself a glass, before winding around both Gin and her truck to the door. He leaned his own truck on the side of Bills new car and munched on his cooling toast, washing the burnt taste down with the milk, trying to forget the flames in his mind.

Bill and Ginny soon came out, Ginny hauling her stuff and jabbering on to Bill about something. Ron didn't pay much attention to her as he settled in the back seat and her in the passenger. As they drove out of their drive, Ron leaned his forehead on the window, idly watching the scenery fly by. Bill obviously wasn't paying attention to the speed signs the muggles put up.

They arrived at the station with only ten minutes to spare. Ron didn't bother with a cart and simply tugged his trunk behind him, a few steps ahead of Ginny and Bill. He paid no mind to the crowds of muggles, swiftly dodging the bodies with ease. Then the barrier was passed just as easily, and Ron didn't bother waiting for the others.

The scarlet steam engine waited at the platform, the gold letters spelling out Hogwarts Express glinting in the late morning light. Ron let a soft sigh escape his mouth and quickly boarded a car at the middle of the train. Surprisingly he quickly found an empty compartment and stowed his truck above the seats. Slumping into one of them, Ron leaned back running a hand through his mane of red hair. He let his eyes drift shut.

"_Flameboy? Hello, anyone home?" A kid with peach colored eyes leaned in the open door and raised an eyebrow at his state. "Rough night?" "You could say that." He said climbing out of the oversized beanbag the kids jokingly called the blackhole and straightened his shirt. "How are the Potters?" The Kid shrugged, "Dumbledore moved them to one of his houses in Godric's Hollow. A really bad idea if you ask me." He sighed. "I didn't." the kid got a look in his eye but didn't say anything. Good, the kid's learning._

Ron was suddenly awake again, hearing raised voices in the corridor outside his compartment. He stood and carefully slid the door open, recognizing Hermione's angry tone.

A dark skinned boy was hiding behind the bushy haired witch as she gave a verbal lashing to two fourth years, by the look of it. Ron leaned against the wall and calmly watched one of his best friends. Hermione sent the two boys away and turned her attention to the cowering other. She tutted and fussed over him then sent him on his way too. She turned around and caught sight of him. "Ron!" She quickly hugged him, and then pulled away. "We couldn't find you when we got here… though we did run into Ginny about an hour ago; she in our compartment with Harry."

Ron smiled at her, looking apologetic. "I got on late, and then fell asleep." He gestured behind him to the open door. "I'll change then join you, 'kay?"

Hermione nodded and Ron ducked into his compartment. He slipped on his robe and draped his gold and red tie around his neck and joined her in the walkway. Her brown eyes were surprised, "That was fast."

Ron shrugged, "I already had most of it on anyway.

Hermione nodded and turned down the corridor. Ron followed her up to the front of the car. "Look at who I found!" She said cheerfully, opening the door.

Ginny and Harry sprang away from each other blushing horribly, and Hermione rolled her eyes. He snorted, amused at the half terrified looks on their faces. "You're going to catch flies like that." He warned them, a grin lighting his blue eyes warmly. The two's jaws clicked shut and their cheeks got darker.

Harry pulled himself together first. "Where were you?"

"At the end of the car. I got to see Hermione scare two Gryffindor boys nearly shitless."

"Ronald!" The said witch shook her finger in his face, "Watch your language."

"But it's invisible, I can't watch it!" Ron joked, jutting out his chin and spreading his arms.

Hermione groaned. "Don't be a smartass."

"Of course not," Ron agreed, lowering his long arms. "That's _your_ job, isn't it?"

Hermione smacked his head and sat down in a playful huff.

"Yes, for once I have to agree with Weasley." Drawled a cool and refined voice from behind Ron. The Gryffindors' smiles slid off their faces.

Harry stood, his hand in the pocket of his jeans, Hermione and Ginny right along with him. Ron didn't turn around, a cold feeling building behind his eyes.

"Malfoy." Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Potter." Draco Malfoy stood alone at the entry to their compartment, sneering at their scowls.

"Get out."

Malfoy spread his hands, "I'm not in your compartment, Granger." His sneer turned toward Ron. "Got nothing to say, Weasley?" Ron didn't answer nor did his face the Malfoy heir. The blonde frowned slightly, and then returned to his sneer. "Later lowlifes." And he waved them off like servants in his manor.

Ron turned slightly, the cold feeling now like ice in his head. "Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione was in front of him.

"I need to have a word with Malfoy for a bit. Don't worry, I won't cause trouble." He reassured her stepping from the compartment and stepping down the corridor. He retraced his footsteps from earlier, back to the compartment just in front of his original one. Calmly, he slid open the door, but did not enter.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him and the two girls across from him stared. "What do you want, Weasley?" he asked leaning back his wand held in lax fingers.

"Isn't it customary to invite one in when they come, not looking for a fight?"Ron let the ice creep into his voice and was inwardly pleased when Malfoy's high eyebrows shot up toward his hairline.

He stood and motioned for the girls to leave. The two did so without complaint and Malfoy motioned toward the now empty seat across from him. "Why don't you take a seat, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron sat, feeling the cold change, morph into a heat that danced dangerously close to his skin as he sat. "I'm assured to see that the son of Lucius Malfoy isn't a complete waste of oxygen." His voice was deep and soft, but it had a razor sharp edge to it, and that was not his own.

Malfoy sat back down. "Who are you?" he asked calmly.

Ron's mouth twitched, threatening to bare his teeth, but he refrained. He wouldn't want to scare the boy now would he? "Who do you think I am?"

Malfoy's eyes flicked to the door then back to Ron's. "A Deatheater…" He said carefully, watching the red head across for him.

"And how did you come to that conclusion, Mr. Malfoy?" Ron asked resting his chin on the knuckles of his right hand.

Malfoy pressed his lips together for a moment, and then he spoke. "In the Department of Mysteries, you were attacked by brains… my father said you had to be hospitalized for weeks because they had almost attached themselves to your brain." The blonde leaned forward. "My father said you'd been tainted because the brains held memories from the first war."

The redhead clapped his hands at the teen's explanation. "Very good, Mr. Weasley… but I'm afraid you are to be disappointed. I am no Deatheater; I plan on being on the _winning _side."

Malfoy froze. "The winning side?" He scowled, "You would actually follow Dumbledore's great vision of light?!" He was standing in his outrage.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "No."

The young man sat down abruptly as the red head's eyes bore into his, "What?"

"What Dumbledore does not understand is that light and dark magic is a figment of people's minds." He looked closely at the Malfoy heir. "When your father's Master was not so insane, he shared in the same belief as many wizards did; there is only power and those who choose to use it."

"You speak as if you knew him then."

"I did." Malfoy's silver eyes widened. "You father was correct when he said I had been tainted." Ron leaned forward. "I've been tainted by the flame." He stood, blue eyes holding onto silver. "Be sure to tell you father that I send my condolences in advance, because his master is going to die."

Malfoy was left sitting frozen in his seat. The year hadn't even begun and something had happened. The blonde felt a sick wrench in his gut and he paled. Pansy and Daphne had reentered the compartment and gave him worried looks. He knocked away Pansy's hand on his arm and breathed deeply, trying to forget the look in Weasley's, no… that wasn't Weasley, that creature's eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Past Given to the Future

Chapter 2

_His arms burned with the effort of the wave. Voldemort's army was swarming over the hill increasingly swift strides. "Flameboy!" He was snatched back as a sickly green spell exploded where he had been standing. He turned his head and meet silver and brown. "Cobra." He breathed deeply and stood straight as Cobra released him. "What are you doing here?" He demanded. The other man bared his teeth slightly at his tone. "You are an idiot; the Light Army has pulled back per Dumbledore's orders, which means you should too." He stepped away from Cobra, "I refuse to." He turned back to the advancing horde, "Even if it kills me." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cobra close his eyes with a pained expression. "Is this your fate?" He flashed a grin, surprising Cobra. "Ney my friend, my fate is far more than to die at the hands of Voldemort." He began to walk toward the Dark Army, "My fate is Fire."_

It was quickly becoming colder at Hogwarts, the leaves were just about all gone and in the early mornings faint frost dusted the lawns in front of the school. Harry and Ginny were off somewhere, probably snogging in a shadowed corner, if Ron was correct, and Hermione was in the library. The red head was relaxed on the steps to the front door, wearing just a shirt with no jacket or gloves. He breathed out, watching the steam swirl on invisible waves in the air. It was a crisp morning, but Ron barely felt a chill.

"Weasley!" Ron sat up slowly and twisted his torso to look up at the black eyes of Hogwarts' personal potions master.

"Yes, Professor Snape?" He said calmly. The black dressed man was only a few paces behind him, so Ron could see the brief look of bewilderment that crossed Snape's narrow face.

"Why are you devoid of a jacket or cloak?"

Ron transferred his gaze forward. "Too hot."

Snape's brows rose. "Get inside, Mr. Weasley. I cannot have one of my students acting like an idiot."

'_You are an idiot…'_

Ron stood and brushed off the seat of his pants. "Yes sir." The red head ascended the rest of the steps and walked past the potions master. Snape's black eyes followed his form as he entered the school and Ron felt the brush of his mind against his barriers. He never faltered as he waved the probe away carelessly. A small smirk appeared on his face as he heard Snape's strangled exclamation.

The classes were boring. Ron found himself drifting off; even in Defense with Tonks teaching. Hermione had given him a disappointed look, but she couldn't complain; he turned in all of his homework complete and on time.

To his surprise, Ron found himself more interested in the art of potion making than physical magic, but he wasn't in the NEWT level potions, only Hermione was. The red head often found his way to the student labs near the Snape's classes during free period, and that is where Professor Snape confronted him again.

Snape prided himself in his work, and any student who showed potential was immediately put in his high level class. He knew the level of each students work off the top of his head; that's why he was surprised to enter the student potion lab and find one Ronald Weasley over a softly simmering red potion.

"Mr. Weasley." He snapped. To his disappointment and curiosity, the sixteen year old looked at him briefly and nodded before returning to the cauldron in front of him.

Ron swiftly sliced a firebug egg into tiny squares and dumped them into the potion, then turned to his professor. "Sir." He greeted politely.

Snape had a vaguely thoughtful expression on his face. "How long have you hidden your talent?" He asked.

Ron shrugged, "I've never hidden it; I just didn't try."

The potions master's permanent scowl deepened and he waved the teen aside. "Why?"

Shrugging, Ron moved out of the way and let his professor examine the potion. "You know, you look weird with black eyes." He said after a few moments. Snape froze, still leaning over the red bubbling concoction. "I don't know why you glamour them, that silver eye of yours is pretty cool." Ron continued, seeming to not notice his Professor's paling face and shaking hands.

Snape's face was suddenly inches from the teen's, and Ron met the black eyes fearlessly. "How do you know that?" the older man hissed. "Tell me now, or Merlin help me---!"

Ron chuckled, "Here's a hint; _'My fate is Fire.'" _He patted Snape's cheek with one of his hands. "Later, Cobra." The red head turned to his potion, spelling the contents into a glass flagon and swiftly cleaning his work space. The flame for the burner stretched itself to follow his movement to the door of the lab. Ron turned slightly. "Good night."

The burner blew out as soon as the young man left the room, leaving a frozen potions master to shakily breathe in its faint smoke. Snape lifted his bend face and let his eyes follow the smoke trails stemming from the burner. There was only one man who had ever called him Cobra, and that man was dead, nearly 17 years dead. As for his eyes…he shook his head, maybe the boy had found pictures of him from Hogwarts or something. Snape eyes went to the Cauldron that had once held the teen's potion, passing a hand over it, his eyes narrowed; no trace of the potion at all, Weasley was careful for his entire carelessness attitude. Snape swept from the lab, his robe billowing out behind him and his thoughts centered on another red head, one who had been killed in the First War.

_The Headmaster of Hogwarts stood at the table of cauldrons, waiting ever patiently at Severus' elbow. The black haired man bit back a snarl as he turned to face him. "I have already told you that I won't." Albus smiled his blue eyes twinkling. "Now, now my boy, I can only hold off the Ministry as long as you continue to spy and supply all the needed potions for the Light." He patted Severus' shoulder and left the dungeon. Severus nearly imploded the many cauldrons on the brewing table. He waved his wand at them and they began bottling themselves. The spy sank onto a stool against the far wall from the door. "For the greater good…" He quoted shaking his head. "No such thing." Severus turned and saw a man about his age leaning on the doorframe. "Alphonse." He greeted the French refugee tiredly. Alphonse drifted over to the potion counter. "How many times do I have to ask you to call me __**Flameboy**__?" Severus snorted. "That's a ridiculous name; I refuse to call you that!" "Even more ridiculous than 'Flight of Death'?" Severus stilled his hand halfway through his oily hair. His mouth thinned and he sat back against the wall. Severus watched Alphonse tinker with the bottles of ingredients on the shelves for a few moments. "I heard you turned down the Potion Mastery." Alphonse sighed. "Yes." "Why?! You're good; better than me by a long shot!" Alphonse turned around abruptly. "Yeah, then brew away in a dungeon the rest of my life?!" He nearly shouted. "I want to be on the battle field, Cobra. That is where both of us belong!" the fire haired man took in a deep breath. "I came here before the Potters were attacked because Dumbledore was running out of options. My job was done by the time you started spying and I could have left, I could have left you to waste your potential!" Severus looked away at Alphonse's last words. "But I didn't, Cobra. I chose to stay under that old man's control so I could work with you! Even if it means I have to break a rule now and then." Alphonse knelt down before Severus. "I don't like the idea of placing the whole world on the shoulders of a child anymore than you, but---!" the man waved his hands around hopelessly. "I don't know!" he stood and paced to the finished cauldrons, their burners flaring in response to his frustration. Severus jumped to his feet. "Calm down! I don't want this lab to be torched as well!" Alphonse noticed the burners and they were extinguished. "Sorry." He said miserably squatting and leaning his head on the brewing tables legs. Sighing, Severus grabbed his arm and pulled him too his feet. "Don't get all depressed, all the fires will go out and my room will be cold." Alphonse laughed weakly. "Come on, let's go get dinner."_


	3. Chapter 3

Past Given to the Future

CHAPTER 3

As Professor McGonagall paced in front of the class overseeing her students' work, Ron slowly ran his hand through his hair, tracing scars left over from the Department of Mysteries. _Fire_. The red head blinked and looked at the ceiling. _Fire_.

"Mr. Weasley." He tore his eyes away from the arches above him and met the transfiguration teacher's own eyes. "Mr. Weasley, if you cannot pay attention in class, leave." Her lips were thin and white. Ron didn't correct his slumped position and continued to stare at her. "Mr. Weasley!" McGonagall barked sharply.

Ron sighed and gathered his books. He could feel Hermione staring at him from across the aisle as he stood with his things. The rest of the class watched him silently and McGonagall frowned after him as he exited the classroom.

Outside, Ron heard the whisper again. _Fire. _He raised his hand and brushed his hairline again, feeling the scars. "Weasley!" Ron's eyes narrowed and he continued to walk down the hall. Hurried footsteps echoed behind him as the blonde tried to catch up with him. "Weasley!" Ron turned the corner, still ignoring Malfoy. The Slytherin's pace changed and Ron felt the other teen's hand close in on the back of his robes. "Flameboy." Malfoy whispered, as if almost afraid of the name.

The red head slowed and stopped near a window. "So, Lord Malfoy remembers me." His lips curled as he turned to the blonde. "Good." A heat rose to his skin.

Malfoy's face had paled and he let go of the red head's robes. "You died." He whispered, his gray eyes wide. "You died! My father killed you!" Malfoy backed away.

"Ah yes. He did, didn't he?" Ron cocked his head. "And yet my soul and magic survived." He grin grew. "You father lost his control that night, and like a coward he attacked my back." Stepping closer, Ron leaned nearer to Malfoy's face. "Did he ever show you the scars that Cobra gave him?" He smirked and pulled away. "Later Lowlife." And Ron turned, heat boiling under his skin, and left the Malfoy heir shaking in the hall. _Fire._

Snape was finishing grading papers in one of the student labs when a certain red head entered. The flames under the simmering cauldrons leapt up, destroying the potions within immediately. The teenager paced up and down the aisle, fire licking his fingertips. Snape swallowed heavily. He was back. _My fate is fire. _"Calm down, I don't want this lab destroyed." He snapped, covering up his shock.

The red head paused. "Sorry, Cobra." He leaned against one of the tables and eyed the purple goop in one of the cauldrons. "I'll help you remake them," Blue eyes darted up to look at him, "If you take off that ridiculous glamour."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "And why should I do that, Mr. Weasley?" He said coolly.

Ron's eyes flickered and the heat spiked in the room. "Do not play games with me, Cobra." He hissed dangerously. "You know who I am."

The Potions Master frowned at the teen. "I saw you die." His voice was harsh. "You bled out on the floor of the Ministry!"

"Hmm." The room cooled ever so slightly. "You never saw where they took my body."

Snape sucked in a breath. "The Department of Mysteries?"

Pushing hair out of his eyes, Ron nodded. "I was a Fire Bringer, Severus. They could resist the opportunity to cut me up and see how I worked. My brain ended up in a tank filled with other freaks'."

"And when Weasley touched the tank…" Snape stared. "Is he still a persona? Or is it just you?"

Ron laughed. "Our brains are one. The medic-witches removed the brain that had attached itself to the kid's head, but they really hadn't of worried, it was a weakling brain of an old, insane man, with a thing for small children."

Snape bared his teeth. "You mean to tell me that the DOM has Grindelwald's brain?" He asked in disbelieve.

"Along with ever other known and destroyed so-called dark lords' brains; they keep them to study the cause and effect of magic. But really dark and light magic is a ruse. It's just the blame-game." Ron grinned. "You seem pale, Cobra."

The older man sunk into his chair. "You crazy bastard." He rubbed his eyes. "There's only one other person that has your gift of fucking with fate." Sliver and brown met startling blue. "Potter."

The teen laughed, clutching his sides. "I did hang out with him when his was little, much James' frustration." The red head moved around the tables to stand in front of his old schoolmate. "Much better by the way." Ron motioned at his eyes.

"Is your fate still fire?"

Ron paused. "Yes." He looked at his friend. "Get ready for the Fire Storm, Cobra."

Snape snorted, "You're going to fight again?"

The teen nodded. "But first we need to remake all your potions."


	4. Chapter 4

Past Given the Future:

Chapter 4

_Severus clutched the bleeding wound on his side with one hand and brandished his wand with the other. A Deatheater fell to a boarder-line dark jinx and the black haired man leapt over the body. The trails of fire were still burning in the floors and walls of the Ministry's entrance hall. Severus slid around a corner and threw up a shield just as a curse was sent his way. Quickly, he dispatched of the two Deatheaters and sprinted across the hall to a pair of elf-iron doors. Grunting, Severus threw his shoulder and magic against the door and it creaked inward. Slipping through the gap, the potions master felt his breath leave his lungs. Laying in the center of the room, both legs at odd angles, was Alphonse. The Fire Bringer's skin was boiling. Shaking slightly, Severus cast the counter curse and knelt by the red head's broken body. "Cobra." Alphonse choked, blood spilling from behind his lips. Severus shushed him and ran a scan on his injuries. The red head's eyes were burning and bloodied fingers grasped Severus' robe. Severus covered Alphonse's hand with his and read the blue script from the scan. He closed his mismatched eyes, he couldn't do anything; Flameboy was already dead. The fires around them dimmed and left Severus in the gloom. The heat that he had grown accustomed to vanished as well and Severus felt the cold seize his heart. He bent down and gently brushed his lips over Alphonse's mouth. "Aw, the Fire Bringer had a lover." The mocking voice of Lucius Malfoy had Severus throw an illusion charm on himself and three combat spells cast in the direction of the jeering Deatheater before the sentence was finished. Malfoy yelled in pain as his left leg shattered. The blonde man was collapsed against a wall when two other spells caught him, smashing his weakened shield. Sercumseptra slashed across his chest and his wand hand was nearly blown off by a bludgeoning hex. Malfoy was slammed into the wall and was suddenly eye to eye with a furious unknown black eyed wizard. "Crucio." Malfoy screamed and thrashed against the wizard's hold. "I will make your life hell, Malfoy. I swear on my magic!" _

Severus sat up gasping, sweat making his thin shirt stick to his skin. He ran a hand over his face.

"Memories haunting you?"

The potions master started and saw Ron sitting cross legged on the armchair by his bookcase. "Do I even want to know how you got in?"

The red head smiled slightly. "I asked your portrait."

Severus frowned. "And he just let you in?" He asked skeptically.

Ron shrugged innocently. "I may have threatened the safety of his canvas." The red head stood and stretched his arms over his head. "I didn't actually hurt him." But Severus saw his pointed grin.

Severus pushed back his blankets and slid of the bed. "So, why are you here?" Ron trailed after him as he left his bedroom.

"I couldn't sleep; I was…distracted." Blue eyes bore into the black haired man's back.

Severus could feel the stare and ignored it. He cast a faint heating spell on his tea kettle and sat on the edge of his desk. After pouring two cups of tea, he looked up at the boy who held the ghost of his past. "Here."

The Fire-Bringer took the cup, leaving the saucer, making Severus roll his eyes. "Is it okay?" He asked softly, breathing in the fumes of the blended spices. Severus raised an eyebrow. The red head elaborated. "That I'm here? Combined with the persona of Ron Weasley? Does it change anything?"

Severus set down his cup with a sigh. "Unfortunately yes." He threaded his fingers together. "To everyone else, you are Weasley, to me…"

"I'm much more?" The red head had a small smirk on his lips.

Severus inclined his head, hiding his face with a curtain of hair. "I'm old, Alphonse-."

"Don't you dare say that, Severus!" The Fire-Bringer snapped. He dropped his tea onto a side table and was suddenly in the potions master's personal space. "As if I care about that!"

"The boy-!" Severus protested, ignoring the smell of smoke invading his airways.

"Ron Weasley no longer exists!" Alphonse growled. "I know what you did to Malfoy when I died at his hand. And he knows I'm back now." The heat danced across his skin and Severus bit back a yelp as it touched him. "I asked you last time to get ready for the Fire Storm, Cobra. I want an answer."

Severus's mismatched eyes stared at the red head and realized that he no longer looked like a Weasley child. Freckles had faded into a warm tan, red hair was wild and passed his shoulders, and the cerulean blue had deepened into the eyes of only one person… Alphonse…Flameboy.

Alphonse smiled when Severus's face smoothed. "I'll take that as a yes." The red head leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to the older man's forehead.

Severus sighed and watched the Fire-Bringer slip out of his private rooms. He ran a hand through his hair. Alphonse would get his way… that was the sort of person he was. And Severus would let him, because that was _his _way. Shaking his head, Severus returned to his bed after extinguishing the lamps in his sitting room.


	5. Chapter 5

Past Given to the Future5

_Despite the Potter's being untraceably hidden in Godric's Hollow, there are more attacks than ever. The Longbottoms were one of the many families decimated by the Dark Lord's wraith. The young heir was all that was left, sleeping fitfully in his grandmother's arms. Flameboy was tired; he'd been on patrol when the family was attacked and hadn't slept since. That was four days ago. St. Mungo's was running at full capacity, medics and Aurors running all over the place. Flameboy just wanted to sleep. Severus appeared at his elbow. "Come on." His mouth was set at a thin line and his silver eye flashed. Uh oh, he was pissed. Flameboy followed him half-aware of the path they were taking to the Floo. Severus stiffly handed him a scrap of paper detailing their destination. The Fidelius charm, they were going to see the Potters. James Potter was in the kitchen when they landed on the grate. He glared at them but waved them into the living room. Dumbledore and a few other Order members were clustered around the table that had been dragged in there from the kitchen. The old headmaster looked his age when he met Flameboy's eyes. The Fire Bringer was suddenly wide awake. Dumbledore spoke heavily. "A Prophecy has been made."_

Ron watched Harry read quietly, his eyelids mostly hiding his shockingly blue eyes. The red head had his feet propped up on the back of a wooden chair, a charms textbook resting on his knees. His friend's eyebrows were scrunched in concentration, and he was chewing on a quill. Ron felt a tug at his heart. The last time he'd seen-when **Flameboy **had seen the Potter Heir, the boy had still been in diapers. Merlin, that made him feel old.

Harry leaned back and sighed in frustration and Ron dropped his eyes back to the tomb in his lap. "What's up, mate?" He asked without looking up.

The black haired boy took the quill out of his mouth and started packing up his books. "I can't keep doing this, I need a break." Harry's eyes were dark and narrowed.

Ron followed Harry's swift departure from the alcove in the library they had claimed until he'd disappeared from view behind the tall stacks. Hermione looked after him as well, disapproval in her eyes. "He'll never pass this year if he keeps doing that." She frowned worriedly.

Ron sighed. "I think he has bigger things on his mind, Hermione." He shut his book and slid it into his bag.

"Are you giving up too?" Hermione asked, frustration marring her face.

The red head rolled his eyes. "I'm going to go see a man about a dog." He left the confused witch in the alcove and headed down to the dungeons.

Ron ducked into the main passage that led down to the dungeons, his footsteps nearly silent even without a charm. He brushed passed a group of Ravenclaws, and turned the corner on the landing. There, he paused. Flameboy's ears caught the tail-tell swish of expensive robes, and the faint click of boot heels. He was being followed. The red-head melted into the shadows the staircase, his fingers sparking in the gloom.

Malfoy didn't know what hit him when Flameboy's hand closed on his throat and threw him against the stone wall. The pale boy, yelled in pain as his head cracked ominously against the wall. Malfoy couldn't see straight but he noticed the red hot fury boiling in the face of the long-dead wizard.

"You shouldn't have followed me, boy." Flameboy hissed in the boy's ear. Malfoy was whimpering as the red head's flame licked the collar of his robes. "You're even more a coward than your father!"

"Weasley!" A sharply stunned voice called from the stairs above them.

Malfoy slumped heavy on the floor as Flameboy was yanked backward by a massive spell. The red head caught himself on a door frame and the torches exploded, sending tongues of flame all over the landing. Professor McGonagall gasped in shock as the fire reared over their heads. She quickly cast an _agua eructo _drenching flame and boy.

"What do you think you're doing, Mr. Weasley!?" She demanded furiously, brandishing her wand at Malfoy's collapsed form. Ron leaned on the wall, silent as the grave, his red head plastered to his face and neck. "Mr. Weasley?!"

"I'll take care of him, Minerva." Severus' silky tone cut off the Animagus' rage. "Take Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing."

Professor McGonagall's face was white with wrath and she barely jerked a nod in the potion master's before she stormed up the stairs, levitating Malfoy's limp body.

Severus watched her go, then returned his attention to the soaked red head. "Cooled off?" He asked sharply. Ron was still for a moment, and then nodded numbly, his red hair still hanging over his face. The boy's hands were shaking. Cold, fury, or shock? "Come." Severus ordered. He did not want to have this conversation in the hall. He felt, rather than heard, the red head follow him. At the portrait to his private rooms, Severus emitted Ron, and waved his wand at the tail of water leading back the way they'd come. Ron stood listlessly in the middle of the potion master's sitting room, dripping water on the thick carpet. Severus sighed and cast a drying spell on the Fire Bringer. He sat down in his arm chair and summoned a teapot and two cups. Ron was staring into nothing. "What was going through your mind?"

"Hohenzollern." The red head rasped.

Severus froze momentarily, then set down the teapot. He flicked his wand at his desk and a bottle with a bright amber liquid inside flew out of the bottom drawer, clinking gently. Severus deftly caught the bottle of Firewhiskey and poured them both generous portions. He pressed a teacup into Ron's stiff hands. "Hohenzollern." He murmured softly.

_Three of the invading Deatheaters were dead as doornails, the other six far away due to the portkeys tied to their wrists. The remaining men were burning to a crisp courtesy of Flameboy. The Fire Bring was talking quietly to the Lord of Hohenzollern Castle in Germen, never fully looking at his flames devouring Deatheater flesh. Cobra noticed from the other side of the room, being treated by an irate mediwizard. Once the man had waved him away, Cobra walked slowly toward his… ally? Partner? Friend? And excused Flameboy from his low argument with the lord. "Leave the politics to the ones who do it best." He advised as they exited the room. The other parts of the castle had been severely damaged by the Deatheater force; they had had a wizard versed in explosive magics on the invasion. Flameboy sighed and ran a hand rubbed raw by his gauntlets through his hair. "The ones who do it best are stupid." Cobra snorted but wisely remained silent. Once they were outside on part of the wall that had miraculously remained intact, Cobra spoke again. "It's not your fault." Flameboy spun around. "Like fuck it is!" He snarled. "If I had waited just a few more seconds, if I hadn't been so-!" "Hell-bent on blood?" Cobra said flatly. He didn't apologize as the Frenchman flinched away from him. He snuck an arm across Flameboy's waist and stopped his retreat. "You lost control today. I won't ignore it." The red haired man turned his face away from Severus' hard silver and brown eyes. "And neither will you." Cobra informed him firmly. "You need to do something about it." Flameboy was silent. "Does hot, randy sex count as something?" Cobra chuckled. "Maybe." He released the red head as an Auror from the ministry stuck his head out and called them back into the war room. Flameboy nodded to Cobra, his blue eyes less shadowed and a spark of something in their depths. Severus waited until the other man disappeared inside before touching the bandages over the extensive burns on his arm._

"What brought on the memory?" Severus rubbed his arm as he recalled his own memories of the storm of Hohenzollern.

Ron emptied the teacup and finally sank into the chair opposite the potions master. He tipped his head back and breathed in a deep breath. "Harry is dealing with things. Particularly Sirius' death. He thinks it is his fault."

"It is." Severus interrupted.

The Fire Bringer's head snapped up and he glared at him. "That's not what you said to me." He accused.

Cobra shrugged. "I was trying to make you feel better." He drained the rest of his tea and Firewhiskey and returned his cup to its saucer. "I don't extend that courtesy to Potter."

"Of course you don't." Ron flopped his head back again. "Anyway, I think he should talk with the wolf." He didn't have to look at Severus to know that the man had frozen.

"Why is that?"

Ron sat up and toed off his shoes. His red hair was still in his eyes. "The wolf knew Sirius better than anyone, you know that. And someone needs to extend the courtesy to Harry." He looked pointedly at Cobra. "He needs it."

Severus gave a long sigh. "Very well, I'll send a letter to him. We can't have the Boy-who-lived down for long." He poured another teacup full of Firewhiskey. "What?" He asked defensively when he saw Ron watching him.

"Nothing, Cobra." The red head had a sly grin on his face; he was clearly remembering other certain times when the man had a bit too much alcohol.

Severus didn't dare allow himself to blush. "So, what are we going to do about Mr. Malfoy?"

Ron pulled a face. "The little twit may be your godson, Cobra, but if he pulls anymore shit, the proverbial fan will be hit with a load of it." He leaned forward. "Lucius will probably try something though."

The potions master rolled his unglamored eyes. "I meant about your assault on his person, Flameboy. And the matter of Minerva witnessing the attack."

Ron blinked. "Oh." He sat back in the chair. "Well, we may have to tell her… and Dumbledore."

_Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk as Severus paced back and forth in front of it. "I can't do this, Albus. The Dark Lord is closing ranks, and it is getting harder and harder to sneak into Malfoy Manor." The old headmaster ran his fingers through his long silver beard. "Yet we must continue our surveillance of Tom's meetings, Severus." He stated. The young potion's master hissed in frustration. "I _can't_, Albus! Lucius already suspects something!" Dumbledore hummed in thought and carefully unstuck a Muggle hard candy from a bowl on his desk. "Very well Severus." He decided after a minute. "I'll ask another to take over the surveillance and you can return to your potions." The headmaster drew his wand and wordlessly cast the Patronus Charm. "Alphonse, would you Floo to my office, please?" He told the silvery goat he's conjured. The Patronus vanished. Dumbledore motioned Severus to sit in one of the comfy chairs in front of his desk. "Sit, my boy. It will take but a moment." The potions master did not take the seat. "Who are you calling?" He demanded. Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon glasses. "I was prepared for the day when you would not be able to continue spying, Severus." He said gently. "I prepared someone to take over when that happened." "Who?" At that moment, the fireplace coughed and flames shot out from the grate. Severus jumped and his wand appeared in his hand, ready to cast fire-repelling charms at the rolling sparks alighting on the carpet. The flames abruptly shrank back and condensed into a human body. "How many times do I have to ask you to call me Flameboy?"_


End file.
